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Monday, December 31, 2012

5 Wishes for My Daughters in 2013 and Beyond

I've decided not to make any resolutions this year.  Not special or particular ones anyway.  I feel that I tackle life with enough resolve from day to day that it would be a waste of time for me to try to gaze into the future and pontificate  what circumstances may be 6 to 10 months from now and try to determine whether or not I will or will not be successful at whatever it is I proclaim to be of drastic importance today. No, instead of resolutions, I will make wishes.  And not for me, but for my girls. Resolutions are easily broken but wishes go up into the heavens and surround us with possibilities, hope, and light.  So I choose to be resolute and proactive in my wishes for my two beautiful girls and, in turn, hope that their wishes come true.



My two beautiful girls


1) I wish them safety and health.  In my opinion, these two necessities innately belong together. I wish for them to be safe from evil outside and in.  Safe in travels, safe in school and childcare, safe at home, safe in slumber. No sickness or illness beyond a common cold. No injuries.  I wish them eternal safety and health for 2013 and beyond.
"I was down and broken-hearted, couldn't finish what I'd started, but I'm safe here in your arms and it's a miracle."  Levi Morrow
Imma and PawPaw Levi at her 4th birthday party

2) I wish them friendship.  We live states away from our family so our friends are extremely important to us.  They have become our surrogate family. Imma struggles with friends because it is so difficult for others to understand her.  The other students in her class look out for her, they are enamored by her, as most children are, but they have difficulty understanding her, not just her language but everything about her. I tried to explain to a little boy once that Imma has difficulty understanding when people talk and he said, "I can count in Spanish.  Would she understand that?"  No, baby, she doesn't speak Spanish either.  She speaks her own language.  It's hard for grown-ups to understand, much less 5 year olds. But we are working on that and Imma says she has a best friend now.  I hope that, in 2013, she is able to make some lasting friendships, that her communication skills improve and that other children find they are able to relate to her.  She is funny, kind, loving, and sweet.  She has a wonderful imagination.  I know she could easily make friends if given the necessary tools.
As for little charismatic Lucy, I hope that she continues to make friends and build upon the friendships she has.  Everyone loves Lucy.  People are drawn to her.  I hope she uses this gift as a blessing to others and never takes advantage of her charisma but always uses it to help others.
"I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.  I'll be there for you, like I've been there before."  The Rembrandts
My girls playing together

3) I wish them the gift of self-expression.  Beyond verbal communication, which I hope continues to develop for both of my children, I wish them the ability to make themselves understood in whatever way is appropriate. Lucy certainly has a way with words. She is picking up more language everyday.  Imma is doing so much better and I know we are on the verge of greatness.  But even if she never quite has a handle on what she wants to say, I hope she continues to explore the other means of communication she has been using thus far.  She is an amazing artist, though she doesn't share her talent with just everyone. She has become the master of pantomime as well over the years.  I hope that someday she will be able to say whatever she wants to but these other areas of self-expression are also important and I hope that both of my girls are able to continue to develop in those areas as well.
"Change your words into truths, then change that truth into love."  Stevie Wonder
Imma, Lucy, and Barkley

4) I wish them to  choose happiness.  When Brian and I had been dating for about 4 months, I remember telling him that all I really wanted out of life was to be happy. He said something like that's what everyone wants and I agree that you would think everyone wants to be happy.  But I think happiness truly is a choice and that lots and lots of people choose every day, for whatever reason, not to be happy.  We make choices each day that put other priorities above happiness.  I feel that I have a melancholy spirit, that I am drawn to sadness--not depression, that's different--and I know that, if I am truly going to be happy, I have to work for it.  I wish, for my children, that happiness comes easily.  That each day, they choose to be happy and that they maintain their innocence of evil and the stresses of life until they absolutely must be exposed to them.  In the world we live in, it is becoming more and more difficult for children to maintain that sense of wonder we all imagine we had when we were younger.  I wish that for them until the very last, until they absolutely must know that the world isn't as wonderful as they once thought.  But even beyond that, I wish them to choose happiness because we can still be happy, despite the hardships we live with, if that's what we choose in our hearts each day.
"Put it in your heart where tomorrow shines.  Gold and silver shine." R.EM.
A little sisterly snuggle

5) I wish them love. I wish them an ever-flowing river of love, in and out, all encompassing, plethora of love. I wish for them to fill surrounded by the love for them and I wish them to radiate love from their very souls for everyone they come in contact with.  I wish them to feel God's love and to spread that unfaltering love out into the world. Two quotes come to mind instantly for this one.
"All you need is love, love is all you need."John Lennon and Paul McCarntey 

"I wish you joy and I wish you happiness but above all this, I wish you love." Dolly Parton
Sometimes you have to love your sister even when she's acting weird.


If you choose to make resolutions today, I sincerely hope that you are able to keep each and every one of them.  Please take a few minutes today to reflect on those you love, those you cherish, your blessings, and those who need and love you.  May God bless each of you and your families and may 2013 be a prosperous year for us and all of us.

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Imma Explains Lunch!

It's very difficult to get video of Imma because she is afraid of cameras.  So, I had to be sneaky.  I think you will like this, especially if you personally know my child.  If you haven't seen Imma in a while, I would LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to hear what you think as far as progress is concerned.  Does she seem to be speaking more clearly?  Does she answer my questions better?  Can you understand what she is saying?  Are you amazed?  If you could take a few minutes to leave me a comment, send an email, or a FB comment, I would so appreciate it.

If you don't know Imma but you'd like to leave a few words of encouragement, I would love that, too!!

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Mommy's Little Cheerleader!

I got a sewing machine for Christmas and I'm terrified of it.  But I decided to at least try cutting out a pattern today.  I decided to attempt to make Lucy a simple dress.
I opened the pattern envelope and started reading.  I determined which pattern pieces I thought I needed and then started cutting.
Imma came and sat down at the other end of the table.
"Watcha doin' Mommy?"
"I'm attempting to make a dress."
"Oh, ya! Watcha makin' Mommy, a dress?"
"Yes, baby."
"Yes, baby.  You can do it, Mommy!"
"Uhm, I don't know about that, Imma."
She then started singing the song that the birds and mice sing on Cinderella, "You can do it, you can do it, Cinderelly, Cinderelly.  You can do it, Mommy!"
As I am piecing the pattern to the fabric and starting to cut it out.
"You making a dress, Mommy?"
"Yes, baby."
"Yes, baby.  You can do it, Mommy."
"I'm gonna try, baby."
"You can do it, Mommy!  You can!" She started singing again.
Once I had the pieces cut, I decided I needed to do a little bit more research on how to use the sewing machine before I actually started sewing so I started cleaning up.
"Watcha doin, Mommy?"
"Cleaning up, baby."
"Cleaning up?  But Mommy, are you gonna make a dress?"
"Tomorrow, baby."
"No, Mommy.  You can, you can!"
"I know, baby, but not today.  Mommy finish it tomorrow."
"No, Mommy.  Mommy make a dress.  You can, you can!"
"Yes, baby.  Mommy finish tomorrow. . . ."
She started singing again.
It's nice to have a cheerleader!
What were you expecting to see in the box??

Friday, December 28, 2012

Mommy Needs a Break, Too!

Like all moms and dads, parents of special needs children are on call 24 hours a day.  Even if and when our children are actually slumbering peacefully, there is still much to be done.  Whether it's preparing specific foods, readying necessities other children may not require, or cleaning up excessive messes created during uncontrollable melt-downs, there is almost always something that needs to be done.  And when all of the physical preparation is finally over, there is always more research to do, more books to read, more websites to visit, more appointments to schedule.  Being a parent to any child is difficult but having a special needs child is often even more overwhelming than one can possibly articulate.
I remember sitting in a waiting room while Imma was in therapy last year, watching Lucy play with another little boy whose sister was also in speech, on the verge of an emotional breakdown. (I think the only thing that kept me from losing it was looking up and seeing another mother plucking her eyebrows.  How can one cry in the midst of such ridiculousness? But that's another story!) I took out my phone and, in between opening crackers,finding sippy cups and breaking up arguments about who had the toy car first, I posted a status on Facebook that not only spoke exactly what was in my heart but it rang a chord with some of the other mothers I know who have special needs children.  It doesn't happen often that I feel I have said exactly what I meant to say and, while I'm sure I could go back and find that post, I will will see if I can replicate the sentiment for you now.  While other parents are driving back and forth to soccer practice, rushing around to make sure that the ballet shoes are in the bag, that the PJ's are returned from the sleep-over, that their children get to all of the fun activities they have scheduled, we are sitting and waiting in doctor's offices or therapists waiting rooms. We are driving back and forth, too, but there is no sports bag, no dirty pair of cleats.  We worry about weighted vests and security blankets. Some of us can't leave the house without medical supplies. I can't tell you how many times I have heard a friend mention how hectic it is making sure her child gets to practice or to the game and wished so badly to have that specific problem. And I certainly don't mean to offend anyone by saying that because I love hearing about how my friend's children are doing in sports or other activities.  I just wish that Imma could do those things, too.  At the time, there was no way she could possibly have ever handled an organized sport--I tried gymnastics and we failed miserably--and I was exhausted from driving an hour each way twice a week, sitting in the waiting room for hours on end, and feeling extremely guilty that my baby was playing with another boy who insisted her name was Landon, instead of being at home or at an activity of her own.
It was about that time that I realized I needed a break. I had to have a break. For most of us, being a mommy means you are constantly thinking about or worrying about your children, special needs or not.  It has always been that way for me.  And we were in the middle of the "Push Towards Kindergarten" I have described in other posts.  Imma's behavior was a disaster and I didn't know how I was going to maintain my sanity for the rest of the school year.
So I decided to go on a trip.  Without my children.  And without my husband.  After all, he had to stay with the kids.  I took my sister and we went on a short trip to a nearby Bed and Breakfast.  It was only two night and it was difficult to leave my family, but it was needed, and quite frankly, earned. We had a wonderful time and when I came back, I was well-rested and ready to conquer another round of therapy and whatever else was to come.


Our Welcome! Plate (cookies devoured shortly there-after), my bedroom, and the view from our room at the enchanting inn we stayed at.  Message me for contact info--it was divine!

All parents need a break from time to time.  Parents with special needs children often feel like they can't afford to take a break. We believe no one else can take care of our children the way that we can.  We tell ourselves our children will be uncomfortable, upset, scared.  While it's possible that these statements may all be true, that doesn't mean they outweigh our need to have some time for ourselves. And if you can take your spouse with you, that's even better, though we've yet to do that since Imma was about two and we had no idea there was anything different about her.  Surely there is a grandparent, an aunt or uncle, or a close friend who can keep the kids for a night or two while you go somewhere nearby--but not too nearby--just long enough to catch your breath and remember why you love your kids so much in the first place! In fact, if you start reading about parenting special needs children one of the first things you'll find is that nearly every organization will recommend respite time for parents.  That's just a fancy way of saying, "Take a break!  You are a person, too!"
Now that Imma and I are at the same school, it's even more important for me to take a break from time to time.  My husband is very good at letting me have some "me" time, to make tutus or blog, that sort of thing, almost every day, which I appreciate and recommend.  My girls are getting older and Imma is getting more independent.  Lucy is still very needy, but right now she is a Daddy's Girl so that's helping mamma out in the R & R department.
We are looking into the possibility of starting Imma in t-ball this spring.  I work with a wonderful teacher who also coaches and she thinks we should give it a try. I think I might.  If she can't do it we can always take her out.  But I think she'll like it.  As long as the coach is patient and speaks "Imma" we'll be just fine.  Lucy is in dance and her caregiver diligently takes her to ballet, tap, and jazz class every week.  I'm so glad that she is getting to enjoy something other children get to do instead of sitting in waiting rooms all of the time. And if you dare to call her anything but her name, she will correct you very quickly and sharply.  "Wucy!  I Wucy!"
If you have an idea for a mini-vacation or some advice for parents leaving their special needs child for the first time, please message me or leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you!  Why should I do all of the talking, lol?
I promise more pics of my beautiful girls next time!

Thursday, December 27, 2012

I Love Lucy! What it Means to be the "Normal" One

I think one of the reasons I named my second (and final!) daughter Lucy is because I hope, someday, to be able to drive her crazy by saying, in my best Cuban accent, "You got a lot of 'splainin' to do, Lucy." I have a lot of fond memories of watching the amazing Lucille Ball get herself into trouble at my grandma's house and I always wondered how in the world she could be so beautiful and so ridiculous at the same time.

Newborn Lucy, 2010

And in a way, that's what I wish for my Lucy, too.  Beauty, silliness, and of course the mind of a genius.  In my book, she's already there!
I feel like I spend an exuberant amount of time on this blog, and probably in life, talking about Imma.  In a sense, it seems that I should spend the majority of my time on this blog talking about Imma because one of the main focuses is to help other people who have special needs children.  And Lucy is what is referred to as, "typically developing."  However, most people with special needs children also have other children who are special in completely different ways and I think it is important that we also discuss some of the things we need to consider when it comes to raising our "other" children.
We debated for a long time about whether or not to have a second child.  I was 10 years old when my first sister was born--no brothers in between either, just an older brother--and I remember how elated I was to finally have a little girl to play with. Things were a little different than I had imagined since I was so much older but now I am very good friends with all three of my little sisters. (Yes, I now have 3 sisters.  And I am very old!) I wanted Imma to have that, too, that indescribable bond that only sisters can have.  So, when Imma was 2, we decided to have another baby and we were very happy to find out that the baby was a girl. Of course, we would have been happy with a boy if that's what we were given but I knew there was going to be something special about having two little girls.

Lucy at almost 8 months, March 2011

When you have a child that is born "normal" and then begins to develop special needs later on, you don't watch home videos the way that other parents do.  Videos of Imma's first birthday party, trips to the zoo from when she was 14 months old, etc., become "footage."  They are dissected.  We analyze her gaze, her gait, her speech, her smile.  Anything and everything that could possibly be a clue as to what went "wrong" is viewed and reviewed.  The same can be true with children that are born after a child with special needs.  From the moment Lucy took her first breath, she was watched more closely than a pot on the stove.  We had to make sure that, if there was something that needed our attention, we caught it immediately.

We were very lucky with Lucy.  She developed normally and continues to do so.  She met all of her milestones on time or ahead of time. The only thing "different" about Lucy is that she is a little small for her age, though her head is in the 90%.  But that's okay.  There's nothing "wrong" with Lucy.  In fact, Lucy is ahead in many ways.  She speaks very well.  She surprises me all the time with what she knows, like counting to 12 one day at Wal-Mart just before her second birthday.  She's not particularly coordinated compared to her sister. She doesn't like to climb or run or jump like Imma.  She likes to look at books and loves letters.  She loves to color and sing songs.  She loves to watch "Shortcake" and "Yeti," which is Lucy-speak for The Backyardigans.  And she has the heart of a little girl who understands, even at 2 1/2 what it means to have a special sister.

Silly Lucy at 2, 2012

We have asked Lucy to do things that seem unfair.  We have asked her to travel back and forth to therapies hundreds of times.  We have asked her to sit in the waiting room for countless hours and play with the other "siblings".  We have asked her to try to be sympathetic and understanding in situations where adults would have trouble understanding why they had to be so. We've asked her to leave public places in an untimely fashion when her sister just couldn't be there any more.  We've asked her to put up with what may seem like ridiculous statements, like I'm not her mommy because I'm Imma's or only Imma can have french fries at the drive-through, because Imma perceives it to be so.  We've asked her to wait her turn when it's been her turn.  We've asked her to wait again when she's already waited. We've asked her to share when she shouldn't have to, or go without for a while so her sister can have two.  We've asked her to be compassionate and understanding, patient and calm, kind and loving in situations where we, as logical adults, sometimes struggle with those emotions.  Most importantly, we've asked her to be her sister's friend, no matter what, even when her sister is not being a friend to her.

Lucy in the waiting room at therapy

And, amazingly, for the most part, she does all of these things.  Even through the "terrible twos" most of the time, Lucy is loving and patient and kind.  She is calm and resourceful.  She is smart and solves problems.  She loves her sister.  She is her sister's best-friend.  Lucy will often give up whatever she has if Imma wants it because she wants her sister to be happy. It's almost like she understands that Imma isn't like everyone else.  There are times when Imma is speaking or doing something odd that Lucy will look at me as if to ask, "What is she doing?  Why is she saying that?" And then, with a shrug of the shoulders, she's off playing again, always wanting to do whatever big sister is doing.  We've had a few moments already when we've looked at each other, smiled, and gone on about our business, just a little glance to say, "That's Imma!"

Lucy and Imma walking Barkley, May 2012

Lucy repeats Imma often.  She emulates her. She walks like her, spins like her, sings the same songs, wants the same toys and books. Lucy worries us momentarily from time to time when she does something a-typical, but then we realize she is just mimicking Imma. It's very normal that she would want to be like her sister because all little sisters want to be like their big sisters from time to time.  And sometimes Imma wants to be like Lucy, too, which is wonderful.



My gorgeous little model, December 2012

As Lucy continues to grow and change, I pray she keeps her amazing spirit. I worry about her because she has a lot of weight on those little shoulders.  I hope to find a way to let her know that she is just as precious and important to me as Imma. Imma is my world, but Lucy is my sunshine.  You can't live in a world without sunshine and I can't imagine what life would be like without Lucy.  Of course having a second child has made life more hectic but in a lot of ways, it's made life more normal, too.  We now know what we should have been seeing with Imma along the path of development.  When I ask Lucy a question and she answers with a complex sentence in her little baby voice, I am amazed because I missed all of that the first time.  It doesn't necessarily make her a conversational genius that she can tell me, "No, I don't want a hot dog. I want chicken nuggets," but it sure makes this mommy happy.
If you have an a-typical first child and you are debating whether or not to have another child, I highly suggest that you do.  If your older child is autistic, there is a greater chance that your second child will be as well, but it isn't a certainty.  In fact, there's still a better chance that the second child will not be autistic.  We have recently learned that Imma is mostly likely not autistic so it turns out this would not have mattered with our second child, and no one knows enough about Imma's probable disability, sensory integration disorder, to know if it is genetic or not, to my knowledge. If we had not decided to have Lucy, I am quite certain my life would always be missing something.  You may regret not having a second child but you will never regret it if you do.
I've never met anyone who didn't love Lucy, my Lucy, my sweet little Lucy Kate Annabella.  Thank you for taking the time to get to know her a little better. She really is an amazing child.  And that, I suppose, makes her a-typical after all.


Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Glitter and Tulle Boutique Post-Christmas Sale

I am not a proponent of shameless plugs but one of the ways I make sure Imma has everything she needs is by running an online boutique, that became a few online boutiques recently.  If you are looking for some cute little girl or home decor items, please visit my Glitter and Tulle Boutique pages.  You can get free shipping on Art Fire through 12/28 with code CHRISTMAS2012

http://www.artfire.com/ext/shop/studio/glitterandtulleboutique

Or save 10% on bonanza with the same code CHRISTMAS2012

http://www.bonanza.com/booths/glittertulle

This concludes our commercial interruption.  Seriously, I appreciate all of your loyal support and if you live outside of the US and would like the best price possible on shipping, message me.  Likewise, if you following this blog, "officially" or not, send me an email or a message and let me know and I will definitely give you the best price I can on any item in my shop.  It means a lot to me that so many people are following Imma's story and I would like to have the opportunity to show you that appreciation.


Christmas Challenges with a Special Needs Kiddo

1) Santa is scary!  Imma was terrified the day he came to visit the kids at school.  Can you say an hour with her hands over her ears and her eyes shut?  Not kidding, an hour!  Thank God for her wonderful sped teacher who helped her get through it!
2) Snowmen can be scary!  The animatronic kind anyway. We have one and Imma used to love it but this year whenever anyone would say the word, "snowman'" she would literally freak-out! "I don't want a snowman!  No snowman!"
3) If you dare to put presents under the tree, expect to have presents unwrapped early.  And daily.  (So we don't do that any more!)
4) It's kinda creepy when you tell your very literal special needs child a man is going to be sneaking into our house tonight through the chimney.  So go to sleep. Oh, and let's leave him a snack.
5) Explaining why no one else gets to go up or down the chimney, no matter how good of a climber you happen to be.
6) If it is snowing and icy, expect the new bike to be ridden around the living room. And for any furniture that dares get in the way to be severally chastised.  "No, chair!  Don't do that!"
7) Trains are cool to ride but expensive.  Pre-shows to trains are loud and scary.  If you must sit through said pre-show, bring some headphones or a smartphone.  Make sure you give fair warning when train ride is almost over.
8) If Baby Jesus wants a cake, be prepared to share with Imma!  And when we sing happy birthday, it better be to her!
9) Church is fine if it's not too loud.  (In the past when it has been too loud, Daddy has spent the entire service sitting in the lobby, trying to keep Imma out of the sanctuary.)  Be prepared for statements such as, "I don't really like this book," because the Bible has no pictures.
10)  Finally, it is difficult to explain that no we can't do this again tomorrow and yes we do have to wait an entire year.
We had a wonderful Christmas and we are blessed to have two beautiful little girls to share it with.  Merry Christmas from the Van Horns!

Christmas 2012 in pictures














Monday, December 24, 2012

The Journey to "Normal," Part 6: Kindergarten

First of all, Merry Christmas Eve to all of you. I debated about whether or not to post this today but I'm certainly not posting anything tomorrow so I am writing it ahead of time and scheduling it to post. I hope y'all get to spend some quality time with your families and experience at least one excited child because there is nothing like the joy of a child at Christmas. Let's get back to the journey . . . .

 I quit my job. After 8 years at the same school district, where I had at least 50 friends I would seriously consider best-friends, call them in a second friends, and more connections than I could ever possibly to count, where I had hundreds of kids I worked with, loved, and wanted to keep in my life, where I had countless promises of becoming an administrator someday, I walked away. I did it for my daughter. It was the fourth best decision I ever made (I'm married and have two daughters, you can do the math.) When I made the proclamation at the pre-ARD (Admission, Review, Dismissal) committee meeting that I was willing to pull my child out of the school district, it was for two reasons that I was able to confidently make that statement. First of all, we had already moved a year before and Imma was attending school there solely because I worked there. Switching her would be no problem. I, on the other hand, needed some more assurance before I took my own toys and went home. Imma and I are a package deal. I felt emphatic about the necessity of her being at the same campus I was on. The campus I worked on at that district did not have an autism, STC (Structured Teach Classroom) so if we stayed there, we would have to be at two separate campuses. They were not budging on putting her in regular kindergarten and I wasn't budging on keeping her out, so I quit.

 When I interviewed for my current position, it was as if God was putting all of the pieces in place, just for me. I am the first and only Reading Specialist this district has ever had. They needed a teacher with a background in RTI (Response to Intervention). Both of those two areas are where I excel. They also wanted someone certified to work with second language learners and a potential administrator some day. That's me. My interview went really well. I immediately felt welcome and loved the campus and the principal. I was in awe of the central office representative who came over (and still am!) as she is amazing and everything I aspire to be someday! And the teacher who sat in is now one of my best friends. For me, it was meant to be. But I was also interviewing them. I asked about an autism unit. The principal explained that they didn't have one. They put autistic kids in regular classrooms with whatever support they need and provide training as necessary. The central office representative elaborated by saying, "We rarely see any need to remove autistic children from the regular classroom. They can handle the academics, we just have to support their behavior." I remember asking her if I could hug her. I really wanted to! That was exactly what I needed to hear. A few days later I was offered the job. They could have paid me in skittles and I would have taken it.

 So sitting across from Imma's principal and telling her I was prepared to remove Imma from the district was not so scary. Fighting an ARD committee is. If you ever find yourself in a situation where you need to fight the ARD committee, be sure to check into your rights ahead of time. It's basically a ten day waiting period and then a reconvening to see if anyone has budged. They can get very ugly. The state can be called in. We would have gone there if we would have had to, but we didn't. Before I agreed to the ARD's recommendation, I spoke to my new principal, and the head of special education in my new district and confirmed that nothing I agreed to would matter if the classroom they were recommending didn't exit in the new district. Be advised, however, if there had been an autism unit in my new district and I would have agreed to the old district's recommendation, Imma would have had to be in the autism unit in the new district for 30 days until the ARD could change the ruling. Something to keep in mind.
Imma's first day of kindergarten

 But we have no autism unit so Imma was placed in a co-teach classroom. She is in regular kindergarten with a special education teacher who comes in for a few hours a day to help support all of the special education students in that classroom. Imma also receives 20 minutes of resource. This is where the special education teacher takes Imma and another special education student out of the classroom and works with them in a small group to make sure they understand everything taught in class. When Imma misses things, it is due to her inability to process language, not a learning disability. This twenty minutes was actually a change from the original recommendation, which was 40 minutes. The new ARD committee felt Imma would benefit from more time in the regular kindergarten classroom and cut her time in half. Yes, the ARD committee wanted Imma in kindergarten more. Essentially, the new district switched the times from the old district. We went from 20 minutes per day in kindergarten at the old distirct to only 20 minutes a day out of kindergarten, plus speech sessions two or three times a week for about 20 minutes. So how is Imma doing in kindergarten, the place I was told she would never, ever be able to handle it and would be completely unsuccessful? She is thriving! Her language is taking off. Her speech teachers are incredible. We had some behavior scares earlier in the year but we also have a behavior specialist on her team that visits her every week and a school psychologist who checks on her. Her behavior is better than I would have ever hoped. She isn't perfect but she isn't hurting other children and it's been determined by her team of experts that most of the acting out is due to sensory issues. There seems to be a lot of evidence pointing toward a sensory integration disorder, not autism. In fact, some of the most experienced members of Imma's team have given my information to show why it is most likely a sensory processing disorder and ways we can help her. They don't think she was, is, or ever will be autistic. I also must say that Imma's kindergarten teacher is outstanding. She has figured out a way to communicate with Imma and to get her to comply like no one I've ever seen. She loves her special ed teacher, too. She's just in incredible hands. Nine people, yes nine, work with her to make sure she has everything that she needs, led by an extremely caring principal and head of special education who treat her as if she were their own and don't mind too much when busy-body mommy can't seem to cut the apron strings.
Imma at school

Let's talk about autism again, because I think it's important that I am clear about something important. The district Imma was in before explained to me that she was not autistic but that she would be labeled as Early Childhood Non-Categorized Autism and that she would qualify for services because of this label. Remember, I am an educator who works with students with learning disabilities everyday. To me, this sounded very much like they were saying Imma qualified for special education services due to this ECNC label. It was only after I left the district that I found out that is not the case. There is not a qualification for special education called ECNC. You are either labeled as autistic or not. Imma was not. Imma qualified for special education as a speech only student. In education, we basically look at special education students in two heavily populated categories, (and some other categories with less students, such as autism) those who are "speech only" and those who have learning disabilities. "Speech only" students still fall under the special education umbrella but their disability could be something as simple as stuttering or lack of articulation. Imma's speech qualification is more complicated because it is language processing but she still fits into the speech only category. She can get the necessary services she needs because of her inability to process language but she is not learning disabled or autistic. If the school district is suggesting your child be tested, make sure you ask specific questions about the areas where it is suspected that your child may need additional support. And make sure that whatever the school district tells you is an area of qualification is, in fact, a legal qualifying disability. You can find more information about these qualifications on your state's education agency website. I was pretty shocked when I found out that Imma could be placed in an autism unit based on a special education qualification of speech only. I have no idea why anyone would want to put a child capable of so much in such a restrictive environment. In fact, the criteria special education teams are supposed to consider first is called, "least restrictive environment." If you are ever in a situation where a school district wants your child in a restricted environment, ask what options are available that are "less restrictive." I can't promise they won't get ticked off that you know that phrase, but it will let them know you mean business and you know your rights. I certainly used that phrase several times and had the "autism schedule" I mentioned earlier thrown in my face. Under the circumstances, all I can honestly say is that district should be very happy I am not a litigious individual.

 Imma is doing so well in kindergarten. Teachers come up to me all the time and tell me how amazed they are at the progress she has made. I am, too. We have our struggles but she is beginning to answer questions, tell stories, talk about her friends and what she did that day. Her speech is becoming more clear, though she is still confused about the trickier parts of speech, pronouns and what-not. She is a different child. I know she is going to make it, eventually, she will get caught up. I don't know if she'll ever be "normal" but in a lot of ways, I'm not normal either and that's okay. I want her to be able to communicate, express herself, be successful, know the joy of friendship, love, have her own children someday in 30 or 35 years. And I believe she will. I truly do. Children rise to the expectations we set for them. Luckily, the staff of her new school has the same expectations for her that I do, they are the same as any other child in kindergarten. I shutter to think of what might have happened if I didn't stand up for her the way that I did. She may have qualified the next time she was tested for autism, which was originally set to be April 2013. When I asked the diagnostician at Imma's new school if she was going to be tested for autism in April, she said, "Why would we do that? There's no evidence to support a need to test for autism." Ahhh, the words I've longed to hear for so many years.

Imma even does some modeling now for my boutique. 

This journey is not over, of course. Imma will continue to learn new things, say silly things I think you might like to hear. I'm sure we'll have more bridges to cross, especially as we begin to explore Sensory Integration Disorder. I hope you will continue to follow our journey. I've been so amazed at the amount of readers we've had. So many kind messages and comments. I so appreciate your love and support.

 Just two more things I want to say on this topic, for now. First and foremost, be the advocate for your child when s/he needs one. If you don't, who will? If it doesn't seem right, keep asking questions until it does. If you don't feel like something needs to be done, don't do it, not right now anyway, keep looking. At the same token, you must keep pressing forward. Whatever it is that is making you wonder if something is wrong with your child will not just go away one day. You're going to have to work to make it go away. And it's hard work. But you can do it! And I'll be here to love and support you, as will hundreds more parents who have come before you. Just reach out to us and let us know you need help and we'll do everything we can.
 The other thing I must mention, which is not pleasant but has to be said is, let yourself grieve! It's okay to be upset and angry and frustrated and mad as Hell. You didn't ask for a differently-abled child, none of us did. There will be times when the only way to move forward is through the tears and the internal screaming. It's okay. I read somewhere once when I was feeling like the worst mother in the world, feeling like I shouldn't be feeling sorry for myself, that I actually DID need to feel sorry for myself. You must literally go through grieving process as if you have lost your child to get through this and move on. At first it may seem disrespectful to parents who have physically lost a child, and I understand that and apologize for it if anyone is offended. But what I had to realize, and what you will hopefully come to realize is, you did lose a child in a sense. You lost the idea of your child. The one I had imagined, that chatty-Cathy Imma, precocious, and ever the social butterfly, she was gone. She would never exist, not as a small child anyway. I had to cry for that little girl. I had to mourn her loss so that I could move on and accept the child I do have. Unlike a parent who has lost a physical child, I am so blessed that my baby is physically just fine and that I can move forward with her and continue to make progress. But until I let that other child go, I was unable to see that my child really needed help. At that point, when I had done all of my crying for pretend-Imma, I could learn to help the real Imma.
 Now that isn't to say I think I'm done crying over Imma. I still get upset when I feel like she doesn't understand or obey the way I feel she ought to or if I feel someone else is being unfair to her. When she acts out or hits me or her sister, I cry sometimes about that. But it's nothing like it used to be when I just could not understand what was wrong. We are past that now. We still don't have an official diagnosis beyond speech language disorder, but that's okay. I now believe that labeling Imma too soon would have been catastrophic and I am a proponent of waiting to label children, particularly in an educational setting, until results are absolutely confirmed and necessary for a child's programming.

This has been a lengthy post and a lengthy series. Thank you for following our story and please continue along with us as we continue to find the ever-elusive land of "Normal."

Sunday, December 23, 2012

The Journey to “Normal,” Part 5: Structured-Teach and Therapy


The district where Imma attended PPCD (Preschool Program forChildren with Disabilities) and where I used to teach has a renown autism unit.  They have an amazing team of autism specialists.  Parents move their families, actually relocate, so that their autistic children can attend public school in that district and get the same amazing services some people have to pay thousands of dollars annually to receive in private school or private therapy. If your child is autistic, that is the place to live.
But my child wasn’t autistic.  And I had the evaluation to prove it. 




Imma's first day of school 2011-12

Imma’s teachers were convinced that she would benefit greatly from the autism unit at their campus, also known as the Structured-Teach Classroom or STC.  They showed me tons of data they had collected which demonstrated how Imma responded to direct teach.  This is when the teacher works with the student one-on-one and using the ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis)materials in this setting, Imma was making progress.  The data didn’t lie. 
I was afraid. I didn’t want Imma in the autism unit.  I didn’t want her labled as autistic,particularly if she wasn’t.  I wanted her to have good role models, typically developing role models, verbal role models.I was afraid she would stop making progress in that setting. I was assured that this would not be the case.  She would continue to flourish.  And, after-all,she did seem to be responding to this method. Maybe it would be the best place for her.
She was also very interested in reading.  She loved letters and was starting to read words, particularly animal names.  The school psychologist who had performed Imma’s autism evaluation suggested that we look into hyperlexia.  It is not a stand-alone diagnosis but it was possible this was part of Imma’s gift.  Hyperlexia is the opposite of dyslexia.  It has different forms, like all conditions,but it is generally characterized by an over-emphasis and fascination with letters, letter sounds, numbers, reading, the alphabet in general.  There were other factors that indicated Imma might be hyperlexic.  Most hyperlexics have speech delays but are extremely agile and coordinated.  Hyperlexia manifests about the same time thatwe started noticing differences with Imma. The more I looked into hyperlexia the more I thought, “This sounds like my daughter.”  Unfortunately, very few people are familiar with hyperlexia and there is no “treatment” program for hyperlexia.
After several lengthy discussions, my husband and I decided to place Imma in the STC classroom for the 2011-12 school year.  Our main reason for doing so was that we wanted to give her the best possible chance at being able to attend regular kindergarten.  We were under the impression that, if she worked extremely hard all year, picked up a lot more skills, and was beginning to speak by the end of that year, she would be able to attend regular kindergarten with minimal special education support. The teachers were very happy that we had agreed to put her in the STC classroom and assured us this was the best place for her. We met her teacher and though she was wonderful.  Kind, loving, extremely professional, clearly very knowledgeable about her area of expertise. We really thought Imma would do well in her classroom.
We also enrolled Imma in private therapy during the summer.  We thought she could benefit from as much help as possible, as we made the Push To Kindergarten.  We drove an hour each way from our home twice a week so she could attend two half-hour sessions of speech and one half-hour session of OT (Occupational Therapy).  We loved her therapists and thought they were teaching her some great skills.  Most importantly, I felt like these therapists were listening to my concerns a lot more so than the staff of Imma’s school. 
If there is one thing I hope you get from this particular post it’s this:  My daughter works harder than anyone I have ever met.  And she doesn’t get enough credit.  Imagine if you will that you are in a foreign country. No one speaks the same language as you. You’ve had no lessons in their language and you can only understand a handful of words.  And these people are constantly telling you to do “something.” They are giving you directions, minute by minute.  Do this, do that.  But you have no idea what they aresaying.  This is my child’s life at school. This is her reality.  Not only does she have no idea what is being said, at school, in the STC unit, she had no role models to observe and follow. She couldn’t read the autistic kids to see what she was supposed to do because they didn’t know either. But she kept on trying and working.  She began to slowly acquire new skills. Her private sessions were also very helpful and we continued them through the school year.  A long trip, twice a week, after an exhausting full-day at school, was tough on a four-year-old and her baby sister.  But they did it because I asked them to.  This was the Push to Kindergarten. And it was critical.
Imma in October of 2011

Around October, Imma’s hard work was rewarded. Instead of spending the full day in STC, she would be going to a regular PPCD class for half of the day.  This was good news.  This was a step towards normal.
Then December hit and something happened.  I don’t know what it was but Imma’s behavior tanked, hard.  She began acting out like nothing I had ever seen before.  She was hitting, biting, kicking, defying her teachers, being rude to her classmates and friends.  She was acting out at home,too, hitting her sister, disregarding our instructions.  Something was very wrong.  We had parent-teacher conferences in December, in January, in February.  She was kicked out of daycare in March, no longer allowed to come back because she was too dangerous, too mean to the other children.  I thought maybe she had a poor example in the STC classroom but the teachers assured me this was not the case.  I was beside myself.  I had tried everything I could think of;punishment, reward, threats, everything. Nothing was working.  In April,she was kicked out of another daycare. We were on our Push to Kindergarten and this behavior was detrimental to the cause!
In April I was asked to come in and observe Imma in the PPCD classroom.  The teachers were beginningto  build their case for STC  the next year.  I knew this because I am a teacher.  I could smell it in the air. I could hear it in the tone they used when they talked about Imma’s progress.  Academically, good. Speech, good.  Behavior, terrible.  But the pluses did not outway the minuses.  I knew they were going to recommend STC and I was preparing to fight it.
Imma and her sister Lucy in December, 2011

I went and observed and made mental notes.  Imma was compliant while I was there. She did several things that indicated to me she was ready for kindergarten.  Imma may not speak well, but he gets school.  She had been in school for two years and she knew how to “do school.” Her behavior was actually getting better at this point.  Academically, she had almost all of the skills she needed for the first semester of kindergarten, and I knew this because I taught kindergarten for four years.  When we met to discuss her placement for the next year,  I proposed all day kindergarten. I was countered with the other extreme.
Something I didn’t mention and probably should have.  Throughout the entire school year, whenever I met with staff members of Imma’s school, they consistently referred to her “autism.”  They said she was categorized as having “EarlyChildhood non-categorized autism.”  They implied that this was a diagnosis.  I knew my child did not have an official label of “autistic” but because theyconsistently referred to her “ECNC” placement, I was under the impression that this was an actual special education qualification. IT’S NOT!  If anyone ever tries to convince you that your child should be in an autism unit or follow an “autism schedule”because they are labeled as ECNC, contact me immediately.  I’m not kidding.  This is not a qualification for special ed.   If I, a teacher, can be fooled,anyone can.
Imma in April, 2011

When we met to discuss Imma’s placement, the principal whom was conducting the meeting told us that she had to follow the recommended “autism schedule” because of her autism.  I politely reminded her that Imma was not autistic.  She politely explained that the ECNCqualification meant that she would benefit from the autism schedule.  The proposed schedule showed only 20 minutes in the regular education classroom.  20 minutes per day, out of a 7 ½ hour day. I wanted the exact opposite.  I was again reminded that we had to use the autism schedule.  I finally got a little worked up and said, “Show me one piece of paper that says that my daughter is autistic and I’ll agree to it right now!” Of course they couldn’t, because she isn’t.
At the end of this meeting, which was not Imma’s annual review but a pre-meeting the staff had arranged to test the waters, we were asked if we were going to contest the committee’s recommendation.  My emphatic reply, “No, I’m not prepared to disagree with the ARD committee’s recommendation, but I am prepared to pull her out of this school district.”

Saturday, December 22, 2012

The Journey to “Normal,” Part 4: PPCD (Pre-school Program for Children with Disabilities)



Right after Imma turned 3 years old, we went through theprocess of having her tested to see what, if any, pre-school programs she wouldqualify through the school district we were living in at the time.  I say “if any” because, believe it or not, atthe time, I still thought she wasn’t so severely disabled that she wouldqualify for the most severe of programs. There were a few different options and I thought she would probablyqualify for PALS, the speech program that services children who have onlyspeech delays.  The other possibility wasPPCD, Pre-school Program for Children with Disabilities. I did not think Imma’sdisability was pervasive enough to qualify her for inclusion in thatprogram.  After all, the only disabilityshe had been diagnosed with was for speech, nothing else.
But like everything else along this journey, I was told inno uncertain terms, not only did my child qualify for PPCD, she needed to be inthe special class, the class that serviced children who were suspected ofhaving more severe disabilities. Again, I was shocked.  I was serving as Summer School Principal whenI got the call from the principal at what would shortly be Imma’s campus.  She asked if I trusted her to do what wasbest for Imma.  At 9 months pregnant,working full-time, and taking care of a 3 year old, of course I said I trustedher.  After all, we were colleagues.  We worked for the same school district.  We’d known each other for years.  She’d even interviewed me for a job at onepoint.  Yes, I trusted her.  Put her where she needs to be.
I want to pause here to discuss the complicated nature ofwriting this particular installment.  Ino longer work in the school district where this took place, partially becauseof the way certain events transpired during our journey with Imma.  However, it would not at all be difficult foranyone who really wants to know to go back in my history and figure out who Iam talking about in this post.  Let mesay a few things regarding why I am choosing to make my perspective publicrecord. First, I in no way believe that any of the teachers Imma was blessed towork with during her time at this campus ever wanted to do anything but help mychild.  I believe that almost everyone onthat campus truly had her best interests at heart.  Her classroom teachers, aids, most of thepeople that did her testing, all of them were wonderful and I am glad that shehad the opportunity to benefit from their work. However, I do believe, attimes, there were other individuals whose judgment about what was best for mydaughter was either clouded by their disdain for me, lack of a moral compass,drive for funding, or deficiency in professionalism.  Whatever the cause, as you will see, Imma’stime at this facility is marked by pitfalls and valleys.  I mention them for the same reasons that Idecided to post this in the first place. I hope that some of you will benefit from reading this, so that you may seethe errors we made and learn from them. So that you can understand what your rights are and avoid some of thecatastrophic events that we traversed.
Imma also made a lot of progress in speech while she was inPPCD.  She had a wonderfully energeticyoung teacher who was experienced enough that her youth did not prevent herfrom making a difference. Imma went for half a day at first, and later we addedan additional hour.  She rode the bus,which she loved.  They had a special busfor little people.  She had speechservices at school and they were doing a program called ABA or Applied BehaviorAnalysis.  If you are not familiar withABA and your child has a speech delay or has some other disability similar toImma’s, I highly suggest you look in to it. I have done an extreme amount of research on ABA and the vast majorityof sources say that it works very well for children with autism.  It’s all about repetition, breaking skillsdown into the tiniest parts possible and then adding on as a child masters onetiny piece. It worked really well for Imma at first.  She was beginning to pick up some language,she was beginning to be more responsive. The teachers marveled at her progress and wanted to continue to workwith her using the same methods because they were working so well.
Imma's 1st day of PPCD

We were very happy with the progress she was making.  We met with her teachers often and I alwaysreiterated that it was extremely important to me that Imma be ready for kindergarten.  They would always nod and smile and say therewere doing everything they could to help Imma. I guess I really didn’t have an understanding of how severely disabledthey believed Imma to be. Keep in mind that I work with students whom aresuspected to have learning disabilities. Some of you may be reading this and wonder if I am any good at my job,since I keep stating I work to identify kids with disabilities but it appears Iwas missing a major problem with my own child. To address that I would say,yes, I am very good at my job.  I was oneof the best RTI (Response to Intervention) specialists in the district that Ileft, which had several. In fact, that was one of the reasons I was hired formy current job.  The problem with Imma wastwo-fold. First of all, I did not see the same child at home that they saw atschool.  They would often tell me aboutthings she “could not do” or “could not say,” and I even started recording herso they could see she could do and say those things.  The other problem is that it’s almost alwaysmore difficult to accept that there is something “wrong” with your own child.

 Imma really loves letters and numbers.

From the beginning, the school district wanted to evaluateImma for autism.  At first, we said no.We didn’t see what difference it would make. They kept assuring us that herprogram (the therapy she was getting at school) would not change whether shewas labeled or not.  So we declined.  In November 2010, when Imma was almost 3 ½,we finally consented to an autism screening. They felt the screener would giveus some valuable information.  A screeneris not the same as an evaluation.  Ascreener consists of a questionnaire to the parent and an observation by adiagnostician.  The process fordetermining whether or not a child has autism consists of looking at threedifferent areas and it is up to the observer’s discretion as to whether or notthe child has enough characteristics in these three areas to warrant anevaluation.  The observer looks at socialinteraction, speech, and emotional response. At the conclusion of the observation, we were called in to confer withImma’s teacher, her speech teacher, and the diagnostician.  They concurred that Imma would benefit froman autism evaluation.  I asked a lot ofquestions, specifically regarding the evidence. I am a numbers person, I wanted to see some quantifiable data to show mewhy Imma needed to be evaluated for autism. They did not have that but the diagnostician was willing to write up areport.
It was when I received this report that all Hell broke loose.
It was several weeks after the screener that I received thereport.  It came home in Imma’sbackpack.  I had asked for someclarification during the meeting and was assured it would all be in thereport.  It wasn’t. I had no more answersafter I read the report than I did before. In fact, I had more questions.  Ifelt that I had asked enough questions of Imma’s teachers and the diagnosticianwho had done the evaluation and that I needed to talk to someone I trusted whocould explain the report to me.  Mostimportantly, it was mentioned that Imma would benefit from being placed in theautism unit, something I had previously been assured would not happen. So, Iwent to a friend of mine who happens to be a diagnostician and I asked her toread the report and explain it to me.  Shewas kind enough to read it, but she told me what I already knew.  In her professional opinion, there was notany indication in the report that Imma was autistic or that she would benefitfrom being in the autism unit.  She askedme if I had asked the team at Imma’s school about it and my frustration musthave come across pretty clearly because I told her I had asked many times and Istill didn’t understand why  they were sosure my baby was autistic. I thanked her for her time and went on about my day,glad that I had friends that were willing to loan me their professional judgment.
The next morning I was called into my supervisor’s officeand told that I was no longer allowed to speak to anyone on my campus about mychild’s disability.
Apparently, I had caused a riot at Imma’s school the daybefore.  Everyone was in an uproar overthe fact that I took the report to someone else.  That I had dared to, as a parent, speak toanyone else about what was going on with my child.  In fact, Imma’s principal came over to my campus, sat down in my office, and toldme, in no uncertain terms I was never, ever to question members of her staff toother professionals in the district ever again—if I wanted to have a goodreputation in the district and if I ever wanted to be an administrator.  Have a nice day. She thought better of someof these statements since, mind you all of this is extremely ILLEGAL, and saidshe wouldn’t recommend talking to anyone else about such reports, though as aparent I had every right to hand it out in “the carpool lane” if I wantedto.  And that’s what I would like for youto understand.  As a parent, you have theright to talk to anyone and everyone about your child’s disability.  And in most cases, I encourage you to do so.It is always helpful to hear what other professionals, other parents have tosay.  But I was being discouraged fromdoing so.
If your reaction is anything like mine was then you areprobably asking, “What the crap?” right now. I was, too.  It’s been over twoyears and I still cannot figure out what in the world the problem was.  I found out my friend had called to talk toone of her friends at Imma’s campus because she wanted to know why they wererecommending an autism unit under the circumstance.  Another contributing factor may be the factthat the report had 19 spelling errors in it, my  child’s name was spelled incorrectly everytime (which was 11), her teacher’s name was spelled incorrectly everytime,  and the diagnostician hadaccidentally left another child’s name in the report, which is an indicatorthat she was using a form, not drawing up a new report from scratch.  None of those things mattered to me as aparent. They do as a professional educator, but not as a parent.  I was looking at the content.  But I believe everyone involved was embarrassedthat such a document ever went to a parent.
And then there’s the fact that it was me.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, there weresome people in that district at that time who preferred to see me fail in myquest to become an administrator.  There’s also the fact that I can be very intimidating when I speak to othereducators, if I chose to be so, and I think I may have come across that way insome of the discussions I had had with professionals at Imma’s campus.
Nevertheless, that does not excuse the abominable way thisevent unfolded.  It created a pretty deepchasm between my family and the staff of Imma’s campus.  I am a compromiser, I like to keep thepeace.  I did whatever I could to repairthe damage.  I promised to keep my mouthshut, to play nice, to keep my documents to myself.  I met with the teachers and we were nice toeach other.  We decided there should be anotherobservation by another diagnostician, one who was not aware of what hadhappened the first time.  We waited untilafter Christmas and had another observation done. This one did not include areport, just a meeting and a verbal recommendation to move forward with anautism evaluation. So we did.
By the spring of 2011, Imma was making good progress but shewas still far behind.  She was startingto interact with the other children some but we started to see a little bit ofmisbehavior as well, “bad choices” in teacher-speak.  She was coming out of her shell some but shewas having more break-downs.  She had ababy sister so she had to share the attention. She was struggling with the understanding that she wasn’t like everyoneelse. 
Storybook character night

The school psychologist who performed the autism evaluationwas extraordinary.  Of all of the peopleI have met along this journey, I feel that she was the kindest.  I don’t mean polite, though she was that aswell, but she has an extremely kind, empathetic heart. She is the type ofperson that can make you feel completely understood and as if her only purposein life is to help you. I very much appreciated the way she performed the evaluation,the way she gathered the information she needed from us, Imma’s parents, andthe way she responded to Imma.
In the end, she came to my school to meet with my husbandand I to tell us what she had found.  Iasked in advance if she could just go ahead and tell me if Imma was autistic ornot.  She explained that she needed to goover the document with us and couldn’t just say yes or no in an email. I tookthat to mean she had determined that Imma was autistic and when we met withher, I braced myself for the inevitable truth. If nothing else, at least we would finally know the answer to, “What’swrong with my child?”
Except she couldn’t tell me that Imma was autistic.  Because the evaluation did not conclusivelydemonstrate that Imma was autistic.  Atthe time that Imma was evaluated, there were 4 diagnoses that would have placedImma under the umbrella of having Autism Spectrum Disorder.  Those diagnoses were autism, Asperger’ssyndrome, Rhett’s Syndrome, and Pervasive Developmental Disorder.  Imma was borderline in three of those areas,all but Rhett’s Syndrome, which in my opinion probably never belonged with theother three.  But on the quantifiablescale used to determine whether or not Imma was autistic, this evaluation saidno.  It said she was not autistic.  It indicated that she may possibly qualify asbeing autistic in the future if she did not continue to make progress, butbased on her age, they could not label her as being autistic at that time.

Imma at almost 4 years old.  Never turn your back on an Imma.

I remember the sweet doctor asked if I was alright after shegave me the news and making the statement that she would probably be shaking ifsomeone just gave her the devastating news that her child was very close on thescale of being autistic.  But I was elated.  I felt like this was a victory!  I had fully expected to be told my child hadfull-blown autism and that is not at all what I was told.  In my opinion, having a test tell you yourchild isn’t autistic, means your child isn’t autistic!  And though it would have been nice to finallyhave an answer, I would much rather have continued to hang out in the limboland of unknowing than to have a diagnosis of autism.  So, while my husband and I were overjoyed,not everyone was.  A victory for us,unfortunately,  meant there was a loser.  And the powers that be were not about to letus take our non-autistic daughter and be on our merry way, not when there wasstill an autism unit to contend with.